


Cross My Heart

by saisei



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Truth Serum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 17:06:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11948772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saisei/pseuds/saisei
Summary: A dose of Truthatrice venom has Ignis compelled to tell the truth; Prompto takes care of him and his secrets.





	Cross My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/3892.html?thread=4841524) for the prompt, "On a hunt, the guys encounter a monster than can not only sense lies, but sprays a pungent fog that acts as a kind of truth serum, eroding a human's inhibitions and compelling them to tell the truth. Ignis recognizes the daemon's abilities and shoves another bro out of the way just in time to get sprayed fully in the face.... Suddenly, reserved and overly-thoughtful Ignis is telling everybody exactly what's on his mind, even things they never asked about..."

"Noct! That's a Truthatrice," Ignis shouted.

He spun through the air, as close as a regular mortal got to warping, and threw himself between Noct and the panicking fluffy bird before Prompto had finished asking, "A what-a-trice, now?"

By then the bird had barfed blue gunk in Ignis' face, squawking and flapping its stubby little wings before making a dash for the bushes.

"That's not the scientific name for the species, of course," Ignis said, frantically trying to wipe his face clean. "Please excuse me, I really need to not be breathing right now." He was sidling away from Noct as quickly as he could while removing his glasses and ripping his shirt over his head to use as a towel.

Prompto was getting pretty good at reading situations like this, and scooted over to grab Noct's arm and haul him up. Some of the stuff was on the ground, and he skirted around it gingerly.

"What the fuck?" Noct hissed, trying to twist out of Prompto's grip of steel.

"It's poison," Prompto snapped right back at him. "You." He jabbed a finger into Noct's chest. "Stay." He pointed at the ground. "Here. I'm gonna run and get Gladio. Give me the – " and Noct was already handing over his set of keys to the Regalia.

"What do I _do_?" Noct said. He sounded scared.

"Whatever Ignis tells you to," Prompto decided, with a swift slap to Noct's shoulder. He took off running like his Crownsguard physical all over again, determined to push the limits on his personal best. The campsite was just a few kilometers up the dirt track from the potential fishing hole they'd been heading for. He'd be there in a handful of minutes. Running was totally his thing. And when future-Noct was king and future-Prompto was improbably, stupidly rich, he was going to make sure every square centimeter of Lucis had cell phone coverage because this? This was just a _stupid_ way to send a message.

Gladio was mangling some top forty song loudly while whacking in tent pegs, but apparently his sixth sense for trouble was on the job. Prompto didn't think he made a lot of noise, but Gladio spun to his feet, center of gravity lowered and mallet in hand.

"Whoa," Prompto yelped, skidding to a stop and hunching in to wheeze. "Ignis."

"Ignis what?" Gladio was already shoving stuff aside to grab their medical kit, and Prompto panted out the story while tossing Ignis' bag and some towels in the Regalia's back seat. "You left him with _Noct_? After a Truthatrice attack? Are you nuts?" He threw himself into the passenger seat and crossed his arms, like one of those statues that get put up in public parks. The Spirit of Progress, The Value of Education, Disapproval of Every Decision You've Ever Made.

"So explain these birds to me like maybe I never heard of them before," Prompto said, putting the Regalia in gear and pulling out like Ignis and _his_ potential disapproval were glaring at him in the rearview mirror.

Gladio was good at making long stories short. "Their spew makes people tell the truth."

Prompto swallowed hard. "How long does the effect last?"

"Worst I heard was a couple weeks." He sighed. "It's supposed to feel good when the drug's active. Not so much when it wears off."

Oooh yeah. "Ignis will – " He didn't even know how to end that sentence. Ignis would be horrified and ashamed, he'd remember every secret spilled and agonize over it, his confidence would tarnish and he'd be humbled. The idea of Ignis in that position was _heartbreaking._

"I know."

Against his instinct to hurry, Prompto slowed down for the tricky descent towards the river. "We gotta split up. You and Noct need to not be around Ignis, like, at all." As soon as the words were out of his mouth he knew they were true. "He's only known me a few weeks. He won't care if he says embarrassing shit around me. When this is over, he won't ever have to see me again."

 _Prompto_ would be sorry if that was how things turned out, because he was just now finally starting to see beyond Ignis' "all business" facade to the total weirdo he actually was (not an insult, it took one to know one and all that). But he couldn't imagine Noct without his Ignis-shaped shadow, and he knew Ignis and Gladio grew up and went to school together. What if Ignis secretly thought Gladio's kid sister was hot or something else unforgivable?

"Don't think I haven't noticed that you two keep saving each others' asses in fights," Gladio said, but his voice was distant and considering. "He might not go for that, though."

"Ask him," Prompto said, stopping the car when he saw Noct and Ignis ahead, and throwing it into park. "Not like he can lie to us."

Noctis never got great grades and he was good at staying stubbornly ignorant of things he felt pressured into learning (99% of the things Ignis thought he should know; Ignis' job kind of sucked), but he wasn't _stupid_. As Gladio and Prompto made their way over to where Ignis and Noct were seated on the ground, it was obvious that Noct knew what effect the glop had and was trying to deal with the situation as gently as he could. In his own way.

"I can't believe I never knew your favorite character was Vetti," Noct was saying. They must've gone down to the river while Prompto was away, because Ignis was dripping and had a bucket of water by his side. He was still wiping mechanically at his face with his shirt. "Do you play her as a rogue or a mage?"

"That depends entirely on my objective in the game," Ignis replied. His voice was a little hoarse. Prompto wondered what the inside of his head was like right now. Was it like being drunk, with all his inhibitions taking an extended vacation, or was it like being compelled and trying to stop himself but failing? "Whether or not I want her to rule the city at the end, for example." He swallowed, and then looked appalled. "It's rude to ignore your friends, Noct."

"Hi, guys," Noct said, sounding like his soul was dying. "We're talking about EosQuest 4."

"I totally guessed that was what you were doing," Prompto said, rolling his eyes because _duh_.

"It's Ignis' favorite in the series," Noctis went on grimly. "Bet you never knew that."

"The graphics in 1 and 2 are shit," Gladio said with a shrug. "And 3's combat sucks." He set the medical kit down and flipped the lid open. "How you feeling, Iggy?"

"Thoroughly mortified," Ignis replied promptly. "The loss of control is nearly impossible to work around, and I'd really rather do almost anything else in my free time than discuss video games."

"I meant physically," Gladio interrupted. "Any allergic reaction, swelling in the throat, itching, whatever the fuck the other symptoms of a severe reaction are."

"Watch your language around Noctis," Ignis said icily, lips thin with disapproval. 

Gladio turned his head to aim a hard stare at Noct. "Scram for a sec." He looked like he was expecting pushback, but Noct stumbled to his feet and dragged Prompto off with him. The fishing supplies they'd been carrying were scattered around the clearing, and Prompto helped clean up and stow the things Noctis couldn't magic away. At the Regalia he took the opportunity of Gladio being distracted by the medical exam to fish his savings out of his inside pocket and press the gil into Noct's hand.

"For caravan rental, and maybe medicine, I don't know. Whatever. That's picture money, I can get more easy, so just take it."

Noct gave him a weirded-out look, but dug out his wallet and shoved the gil in. "Thanks," he said, and then added like he couldn't help himself, "He's never been sick as long as I've known him."

He sounded lost in a way Prompto couldn't do anything about, so he grinned and said, "So bake him a _sorry I tried to touch a thing even though you told me a million times not to_ apology cake or something."

Noct squinted. "I don't want to _kill_ him."

Prompto socked him in the arm (not that hard). "He's a smart guy. He knows better than to eat your cooking." He shifted to the side, peering around Noct. "Looks like Gladio's done."

Gladio stood and offeered Ignis a hand up, which was refused. Gladio crossed his arms and stalked over to the car. The exasperation in his scowl showed he was done in more than one way. 

"Yo," Gladio said. "So, long story short..."

Which was how Prompto ended up waving goodbye as Noctis and Gladio hit the road in the Regalia, leaving him behind as official nurse, or whatever. Ignis was irritated – he'd wanted to be left _alone_ , and hadn't been able to stop himself from telling Prompto each time the thought crossed his mind. Prompto was trepidacious, himself. Even though he'd volunteered – he liked Iggy, who didn't deserve this shit – he hadn't thought through all the technical stuff. Like keeping track of the low grade fever Ignis was running and checking his symptoms. Ignis was perfectly willing to overshare every detail of his life, and Prompto... massively respected Noctis for sticking to chatter about video games.

He needed a solid plan (Six save him, all the state secrets and juicy gossip Ignis knew was just one badly-asked question away), and here he was, with a strategist all to himself who was no help at all. Awesome.

Noct thought badly of Prompto's parents for not being around much, but they were good people. They'd never been angry or upset with him, not _ever_ : they were steady and patient and gave great hugs. So, Prompto decided, _What would mom and dad do?_ was going to be his mantra. Ignis already felt bad enough about the situation. At the very least, Prompto didn't want to add to that.

While Prompto thought and set up chairs and stuff, Ignis had been inventorying the cooler box, which meant dinner time, which... yeah, Prompto could handle cooking with Iggy. He wandered over and volunteered.

Ignis was appalled that he didn't know how to hold a knife properly, and Prompto got a short and intense lesson in Peeling 101 – why it was necessary and how to avoid accidentally stabbing yourself. All Ignis' knives were razor-sharp. He learned the names for all the spices Ignis was using and what they were good for. He was taking a commemorative photo of his kickass chopped onion when Ignis asked with honest bafflement if he'd never had home cooking before this trip.

"I didn't mean to say that," Ignis added swiftly. "I'm _sorry_."

"It's cool." Prompto dropped his camera in his pocket and scraped the onion off the board into the pot. He looked Ignis in the eye and grinned, to let him know he wasn't just saying that. "Seriously. My family _wasn't_ into food, like, at all." He bit his tongue on asking about Ignis' upbringing – who knew what kind of truths would crawl out if he turned that stone over? "Please tell me you burned the first thing you tried cooking."

Ignis looked amused and offended at the same time. "I assure you I did not." He gestured unsubtly for Prompto to start stirring. "I might have given up if I'd failed," he admitted. "I was a particularly results-oriented child."

"So what was the first thing you made?" Prompto redirected, feeling the edge of desperation. Constantly steering the conversation back on track was tiring; he usually didn't have to watch his words. He just opened his mouth and let them fly free. "Did you use a cookbook or just – " he snapped his fingers – "think it up?"

Ignis appreciated his effort, though. Prompto saw the tension in his shoulders relax for a second. He still, it turned out, remembered the recipe, which was freaking amazing, and that gave Prompto an opportunity to ask what was the difference between plain olive oil and _virgin_ – was the regular stuff deflowered? Also, what did julienne mean, and why was it necessary to stick meat back in the cooler to soak in the sauce.

"Marinade," Ignis corrected. "Heathen."

Prompto cracked up at that. "Even your insults sound kind of nice." 

Ignis told him he didn't appreciate being laughed at, and said the soup was ready to be served. Prompto set the bowls out at the same time as Ignis put down a plate of flaky bread-pastry rolls, golden brown and smelling like heaven. There wasn't any need to worry about dinner conversation, because they were mostly too busy stuffing their faces. (Ignis didn't seem to be able to turn off his manners-nitpicking module, but Prompto figured, well, he probably _shouldn't_ shove a whole roll in his mouth at once, because if he choked and died, he'd never get seconds or thirds.)

Prompto put some tunes on during clean-up, making good use of Gladio's absence to play the stuff he actually liked. He might've danced a bit as he got into the pot-scrubbing, but Ignis didn't laugh (much). When everything was Ignis-approved spic and span, Prompto dug out his deck of cards and raised his eyebrows. He wanted to know if Ignis could still cheat.

"I hardly ever... _damn_ it," Ignis said, and let Prompto push him over to his chair.

They played a full set of Six Says, which gave Prompto flashbacks to when his dad had taught him back in elementary school. Towards the end of the second cycle, Ignis played his battle and, as he sat back, said (extremely smug), "And _that_ is how you cheat at Six, oh _fuck me_."

"Dude," Prompto tried to make his admiration clear, "that was _smooth_ , I didn't even notice. Care to share?"

Ignis scoffed. "What possible incentive do I have for divulging my secrets?"

Point. "Yeah well – you haven't caught _me_ yet, so." Ignis might be good, but Prompto's dad had been the absolute best at creative card redistribution.

Ignis' eyes narrowed. The next and final set was brutal; Prompto's eyeballs hurt from trying to watch all the cards at once. But then the game was over (Ignis had beat Prompto, but the Six beat both of them – kind of like real life, actually) and it was bedtime. Prompto made Ignis take his temperature (same low fever) and report on his symptoms (the red splotches on his face and hands were turning into a spotty rash, and his throat was sore) and then sent the data off to Gladio while Ignis went to wash up. Prompto doused the fire and found Ignis already snug in his sleeping bag when he crawled into the tent. All that truth was exhausting, even for Prompto. He closed his eyes and hoped tomorrow would be better.

Prompto woke before the sun was up to find he'd wormed out of his sleeping bag and thrown his arms and legs all over. Ignis was gone – possibly due to a foot in the face, whoops – so Prompto kicked his boots on and rolled out while hopping into his pants (he didn't do graceful before seven). Ignis was sitting with a mug of coffee in one hand and his phone in the other, knees wide, hair all on end, and shirt still unbuttoned.

"Yo," Prompto said, the word stretching into a yawn that impelled him to ladder his arms up to the sky as he bounced on his toes. When he'd recovered, Ignis was giving him a weary, wary look, which kind of stung. But it wasn't like Ignis got a lot of time to himself, and he seemed like the kind of person who liked the quiet. "I'm going for a run," Prompto went on, vague-waving off at the hills. "Before it gets hot. Unless you need me here? In which case, here I am."

Ignis shook his head. "Have fun." He raised his phone. "Gladio has officially relieved me from all training activities until this runs its course. Certain threats were made."

"You probably shouldn't be texting," Prompto said cautiously. "Don't want to wake people up with sugar frosted truth bombs."

"I'm playing MoogleCrush," Ignis admitted with a distracted earnestness, and then sighed. "How are you this annoying this early in the day?"

Which, rude, but not Ignis' fault. Prompto knew when he'd volunteered that he'd find out what Ignis really thought of him. The weird thing was how he was liking Ignis more because of how well he was rolling with the current crappy circumstances. "Have fun swiping," Prompto tossed over his shoulder as he took off.

Previous visitors to this haven had left behind a series of trails – the one down to the river, of course, but also several that led to scenic outlooks and cool-looking rock formations. He had his camera in his pocket, and by running like cactuars were after him he managed to hit most of the really majestic viewpoints and capture the mist over the river, the sun rising from behind some cool rocks, and the whole valley glowing under rosy clouds. Days like this he found hard to reconcile with the war, and all the terrible things happening. A pretty big part of him wanted to believe that only the beauty and peace were real.

He tried to explain this to Ignis, when he skidded back into camp an hour and a bit later. They sat on the grassy verge, sipping from a flask of lukewarm tea, and Ignis clicked obediently through the pictures, letting Prompto burble about the composition and the lighting, what he'd have done if he'd brought along one of his other cameras or different lenses, and what his ultimate plans were for all his pictures.

"Another calendar," Prompto said, no question in his voice. "I do one every year – well, duh – but never anything like this." He spread his arms wide, a silent proclamation of _just look at all this amazing nature!_ "It's kind of a photographer's dream."

Ignis tilted the camera, to show a picture Prompto took two (three?) days ago, of Gladio trying to shove a bluegill down Noct's pants. "Your dreams are decidedly peculiar." He clicked back one more and frowned. Prompto had been delighted to sneak a shot of Ignis on a bad hair day, scowling as he tried to coax his bedhead down. "I'm not fond of having my picture taken, you know," he added. "Especially when it's meant to poke fun."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Prompto took the camera and tapped back to last week. He'd caught up with Gladio and Ignis when they were out hunting a garulet and tossed off a quick _smile!_ before snapping the shot. Still, in the space of a second, they'd both somehow posed like supermodels, Gladio's shirt blowing open to reveal a fine expanse of muscular, tattooed chest, and Ignis with his shoulders back and hip cocked, giving the camera an irritated, arch look. Noctis had taken one glance and declared that some things were totally unfair. Prompto kind of agreed. He passed the camera back with that picture onscreen. "Nine out of ten pictures of you are hotter than Ifrit, and I know you know that."

"I loathed Cosmogony in school," Ignis said swiftly, grabbing the conversation by a tangent and swinging it around by what appeared to be force of will. " _Titan, the Archaean, steadfast as stone_ – " He recited the whole chant all the way down through the twenty-four messengers, and Prompto could see the hand not wrapped around his camera clenched hard, white-knuckled with effort.

"I failed Intro Cos and had to retake it over the summer holiday," Prompto assayed, not really sure what Ignis was working to avoid. Looking at pictures, talking about the gods, talking about school? Ignis took a breath and didn't launch into any more theology, so maybe he was doing okay. "Noct laughed at me – he woke up early every morning just to text me _ha-ha, you're going to school and I'm going back to sleep_." Ignis frowned disapprovingly, and Prompto jumped to reassure him. "Joke was on him, I was up at five _anyway_ because I used to run and work out before school, or I'd never be able to sit still." He grinned. "My mom said when I started junior high it was like someone threw a switch. I went from being inert to having, like, bottomless energy."

"It's called puberty," Ignis noted dryly. "Surely someone explained this to you."

Prompto made a face. "It's not the same thing." He flopped back onto the grass and stretched, arching his back until it popped. "I mean literally, once I start running or doing push-ups or squats or whatever, I don't need to stop unless I get hungry or bored or need to piss. It's a total mystery to me how I can keep up with Gladio just fine and don't have the muscles to show for it."

"Genetics," Ignis suggested. "You've seen Gladio's father, and his mother was... formidable."

"So if I want to find my birth parents, I look for skinny fidgety blond dudes and be like, hey, you lose a kid somewhere twenty years ago?"

"You took the words right out of my mouth." Ignis leaned back on his hands, looking about as relaxed as he ever got. Which was not very relaxed compared to Noct, who was basically a cat and could collapse into a boneless sprawl anywhere, but it was still a good look on Ignis. A hint of self-satisfied amusement that almost turned into a real smile, the constant performance of propriety set aside. "I'm adopted as well, were you aware of that?"

And argh, this sucked _so hard_ that even when kicking back Ignis needed to be policed. Prompto could see a frown forming in the way his eyebrows tucked down.

"That's awesome, and I am up for comparing notes and bonding literally any other time ever, but not today, okay?" Ignis was biting his lower lip, but he nodded curtly. Prompto mentally flailed, trying to think of how to not lose the moment. He didn't know how to do this, or how to much of anything aside from – heh. "You want to kill a few hours learning how to take good pictures? Is photography something you're interested in? I'll settle for _mildly curious_."

"Perhaps," Ignis said. He sounded reluctant, but he looked thoughtfully at the camera where he'd set it on the ground. "I've certainly enjoyed your pictures – aside from the ones where I look ridiculous."

Prompto grinned. He'd hooked the man like a fish, kind of. "If you master the basics, I'll teach you how to take a killer selfie, guaranteed sexy for all your dating profile needs."

That earned him a muffled snort. "I don't have a dating profile – that sort of thing's frowned upon for servants to the Crown. As you well ought to know. I believe I briefed you when you were accepted to the Crownsguard. If you were texting under the table I'll be disappointed. Your selfies aren't sexy."

Hell, Prompto was in hell. "I do what I can with what the Astrals gave me – I'm the cute boy next door, it works for me." Prompto cut himself off and redirected before Ignis could tell him that he wasn't cute, either. "Let's walk and talk, I'll throw a ton of technical stuff at you and then you can shoot a bunch of pictures." He grabbed the camera and sprang to his feet with a bounce. "Stop me if you have questions. I've never had a captive audience before, this'll be cool."

"That was not the word I had in mind," Ignis muttered, rising to his feet with typical effortless elegance. Prompto wondered if he danced, or if his grace came from all the martial arts training – but then Gladio should be just as smooth, and he wasn't, though Prompto wasn't about to say that to his face ever.

"Let's talk about the exposure triangle," Prompto started. He snagged his tripod from his bag and tossed it in Ignis' direction, watching appreciatively as it was plucked out of the air in one leisurely sweep of a hand. "You're the man who likes things to be in focus, you'll love this."

"Ah. It all becomes clear."

He'd passed a field earlier with wildflowers and interesting rocks on the other side of the ridge that would be great for a lesson, and he waved a hand in that general direction as he set off. Passing Ignis, he gave him a swift swat on the hip; he liked when Ignis sounded like himself, despite the stupid truth poison stuff, but letting on would probably be a mistake. "Shutter up, and stay focused."

After they arrived and Prompto finished his impromptu lesson before it got even more boring, he handed the camera over and kicked back. Ignis talked to himself while he worked; his voice was easy to listen to, like one of those recorded books or a nature documentary. It made a pleasant background noise that Prompto ignored while trying to catch the lizards that sunned on the rocks, until his ear tripped over something that wasn't about f-stops or composition (Ignis fretted a lot about framing his shots _just so_ ).

"...hasn't eaten since yesterday," Ignis was saying to himself. "Which isn't healthy – the _one person_ who's never complained about the food. I'm going to be very put out if Gladio lets Noct make himself sick on junk food." He reached up and scratched at his cheek, which to Prompto's horror was livid with scratch marks (some of them bloody) around the spreading rash. Possibly feeling the weight of Prompto's stare, he let his gaze flick away from the viewfinder to meet his eyes. "And now you've gone and done it."

Prompto was half-tempted to just run; instead, he fished his phone out of his pocket. "Fever?"

Ignis sighed. "A bit more than last night, but I expect that's par for the course, considering we've been out here in the sun all morning. Not that I'm complaining," he added. "I'm – "

"Itchy," Prompto cut in. "On a scale of one to ten?"

That took a moment to figure out, perhaps because Ignis' natural inclination was to lie, and now he couldn't.

"Probably an eight," he admitted. "It's not unbearable, but it's definitely a distraction."

"Smile," Prompto said, and snapped two shots of Ignis' face, close up and closer. "And your hands." Ignis was very clearly upset, but he spread his hands out demonstratively, first the backs and then the palms. They were also spotty and raw from being scratched. "Any other symptoms you didn't feel like telling me?"

"Mild dehydration," Ignis said, watching apprehensively as Prompto typed his words up. "Slight vertigo. Nothing that I thought was important enough to mention, especially since I hate the idea of napping or any similar forced inactivity. I need distraction far more than I do rest."

"When did the inability to stop talking kick in?" Prompto asked. "After the fever went up?"

Ignis looked thoughtful. "Now that you mention it, perhaps. The utter lack of privacy is rather horrific. I'd really rather have you shoot me than find myself telling you – "

"Everything I said about f-stops, go!" Prompto glared until Ignis started talking, and then sent Gladio his desperate plea for medicine and sanity. Considering how good at cooking Ignis was, he didn't seem very comfortable with fractions, but maybe that was a visualization problem. Or square roots. Prompto kind of liked the idea that Ignis might be secretly bad at math, but he suspected Ignis would consider it akin to bedhead snapshots, so he badgered him through half-stop and third-stop number scales all the way back to camp.

Ignis understood what he was doing. He made a point of telling Prompto so, and mentioning that while he found the heavy-handed subject-changing useful, it was also incredibly aggravating.

"We haven't even scratched the surface of just how aggravating I can be," Prompto told him cheerfully, glad to see the haven and their camp as they crested the hill. "Remember second year of high school, when Noctis was obsessed with karaoke? You want to guess how many inane pop song lyrics I can drill you on? Not to mention clap-out games – I can teach you all ten versions of Miss Molly's Moogle, even the dirty ones."

"Please spare my innocence," Ignis said, pushing his glasses up in an attempt to sneak in a good scratch at his cheek. Prompto snapped his fingers at him, like he was a misbehaving cat, and Ignis lowered his hand irritably. "I'm unfamiliar with the game, _and_ I prefer to stay that way."

"My ultimate goal is for you to only talk about stuff you couldn't care less about," Prompto pointed out. "I honestly don't care how much it drives you nuts. Sorry for your innocence and all, but there's probably no way to avoid picking up some really dumb shit." His phone dinged, and he checked the reply from Gladio. "Okay! So our bros have hit up an apothecary for the good drugs. Anything you want them to bring? Gladio wants to know if you need books."

"Not his kind of books." Ignis frowned. "I'm aware he considers me snobbish, but I hardly see the point of starting a story if it's obvious the two people on the cover will have fallen in love by the final chapter."

"Love is about the journey, not the destination," Prompto intoned like a bearded prophet. He texted Gladio not to bring romances. "You boiled water this morning, right?"

"Don't I always?" Ignis said, with enough of a bite to the words that Prompto felt guilty. He was pretty sure that was the intent. Ignis shrugged after a moment. "It's far more pleasant and less effort than nursing someone through parasitic infestation."

"My stomach and I thank you," Prompto assured him. "So – you go sponge bathe because sweat _is_ making the rash worse, and I'll wrestle the tent into sun-shelter mode, and then you lie down and I'll do lunch." Ignis frowned at that, and Prompto waved airily. "You can tell me everything I do wrong, it's cool. I'll chop a few tomatoes for you, just to get your blood pressure up."

Ignis paused, and then admitted, "I really want to assure you that there's no wrong way to cut a tomato, but that would be lying. I'm practically positive that any tomato in your hands would suffer terribly."

"Yep." Prompto shrugged. "Live with it."

They finished one clean variation of Miss Molly Had a Moogle in between Ignis' honest-slash-brutal criticism of lunch, and then Prompto shooed Ignis back into the shade of the tent with a promise to critique his pictures. They only got through the first seven, though, before the Regalia pulled up – possibly a good thing, because Ignis had a very good eye for composition but not the skill yet to satisfy his own high standards, despite Prompto telling him Insomnia wasn't built in a day.

(Ignis implied that if _he'd_ been in charge of building Insomnia, the city would have been greatly improved, but Prompto figured he'd spent enough time fighting rush hour traffic to maybe not be talking entirely through his hat.)

Prompto had been texting Gladio – their token non-driver – about Ignis' shitty new symptoms, and he must have briefed (or threatened) Noct well. Instead of asking Ignis how he was feeling or what he'd been doing, he made the world's most awkward attempt to fill Ignis and Prompto in on his own activities: talking to the local hunters and picking up a few tips, meeting an ancient crone who swore by this one particular worm for bait. Normal stuff. He'd added a few more pieces to the junk he collected in his pockets – another sabertusk claw and a weird bit of metal scrap – which he insisted on showing Ignis over his very sincere declaration of absolutely zero interest.

Ignis called him a magpie, which Noctis seemed to take as a compliment, and they were getting on so well that Prompto made the call that he could leave them alone for the minute or two he needed to talk with Gladio in private.

They headed for the Regalia, where Gladio had stashed the medicine. Before handing it over he gave Prompto shit for withholding money (today's regularly scheduled _you fucked up_ lecture), but he seemed to get that it wasn't _money for running away_. Prompto had thought of it as _survival if I get left behind_. Gladio's warning to not be a dumbass was given with enough fondness that Prompto thought he was talking about both issues, the secret savings and the fear of abandonment. At any rate, he felt his cheeks heat, and said, "Yeah, yeah, I'm sorry."

Gladio gave him a swat on the hip. "Don't do it again. We're a team." He reached down into the footwell and hauled up a bag full of clunking glass bottles. "Here, have some drugs." The bag, cradled in Prompto's arms, weighted a ton. "The apothecary says it'll clear up on its own, but the photosensitivity makes the rash worse, and the fever makes the honesty worse, and basically, we had the gil, so we got the overpowered medicine." He had a piece of paper with the instructions, and read them out loud like he wasn't sure Prompto wouldn't screw up somehow. Red bottle this, brown bottle that.

"Cool," Prompto said when he was done, and then, because he never quit when he was ahead, asked, "I thought Noct would just potion something up."

Gladio glanced over to make sure they were still far enough away to not be overheard, and when he spoke his voice was pitched not to carry. "He's terrified Iggy'd get stuck like this somehow. Stopping bleeding's one thing, messing with the brain's another, and messing with _Iggy's_ brain... yeah. I don't know enough about magic to know if he's being dumb."

Prompto was about to suggest that Noct could be right and dumb at the same time – it happened a lot – when Ignis ( _Ignis!_ ) raised his voice like he'd hit the end of his rope hard.

"Not everything is _about you_ ," Ignis snapped. His arms were crossed and his head back like he was trying to start a fight. Noct looked shocked, and kind of guilty, and fuck, this was Prompto's fault for leaving them alone too long. "For _once_ in your life would you kindly stop acting as though you're entitled to everything from my time to my attention to my _personal thoughts_." He tilted his head to give Noct a piercing stare, and Prompto and Gladio both jerked into motion. "You don't _own_ me. Serving you is _my choice_."

Even as the words left his mouth, Ignis' face suffused with horror. What he was saying was undoubtedly true, and most likely warranted – what beyond-dumb question had Noct asked? – but this was cruel honesty, and Ignis wasn't cruel. Not to Noct, not ever.

He took a step back, and Noctis took two forward, fast enough to serve as a reminder that there was no way to run from someone who could warp in the blink of an eye.

"Wait up, Specs," Noct said. "I suck, okay. Just – we used to – " He took one more step forward and folded his arms around Ignis in the world's worst approximation of a hug.

Gladio grabbed Prompto's arm and jerked him to a stop, halfway across the campsite to temper tantrum ground zero. Ignis didn't look like he minded that his arms were pinned to his sides and Noct had smushed his face into the collar of his shirt. After a moment, he lowered his head, eyes closing, and his shoulders dropped with a sudden loosening of tension. Maybe he found the death grip comforting; Prompto figured it took all kinds to make a world. Or maybe Noct was squeezing hard enough Ignis was oxygen-deprived.

After a minute of relentless hugging, Ignis worked his right hand partway free and patted Noct stiffly on the back. He said something, the words lost in Noct's hair, and Noct gave him a friendly shake.

"Nope," Noct said. "Cause there's nothing to forgive." He jerked his arms back and moved gingerly away, flexing his fingers in an attempt to get feeling back. "You think I forgot you're sick cause you took a hit for me?"

Ignis brought his own hand up slowly to adjust his glasses. "I don't think we've hugged since you were a child," he murmured.

"Shut up, Specs," Noctis said. He sounded fond, even if his expression was halfway between exasperated and embarrassed. "Someone told me it was a thing."

Aw, fuck – that would be Prompto. He owed Ignis an apology, then. In his defense, he'd been thinking about his mom's hugs, which were awesome.

"So," Noct went on, looking over at Gladio and Prompto as if ready to be saved, "can we sit around and play King's Knight, and eat the crappy snacks Gladio bought – "

" _I_ bought?" Gladio's eyebrows shot up in accusation.

"– and just hang for a bit?"

"I'll give you hanging," Gladio muttered, but he turned on his heel and headed back to the Regalia.

Prompto took that as his cue to shove everyone into the tent-slash-sun shelter and impose an arbitrary fine of one hundred gil for talking about anything other than the game or the snacks.

"That seems unfair," Ignis said, settling down in his habitual corner. "Considering that I can't really stop myself."

"Not you." Prompto dropped crosslegged down in front of him and rummaged through the medicine. He got Noct to go get him a cup for the two different nasty-looking syrups and poured out one dose and then the other, which Ignis took without a fuss (though he did say the taste was vile and expressed his strong annoyance at needing to do this three times a day – "plus once before bedtime," Prompto corrected; he _had_ paid attention to Gladio, so there). There was a pot of stuff for the rash, which he dabbed on generously, because he didn't want Ignis getting scars from this, not all over his face. He did his hands as well, wrapping them in gauze from the medical kit so Ignis didn't smear up his phone screen.

"Hey," Gladio said, ducking in and pushing Noct to the side so he could sit where the tent roof was highest. "Here, the apothecary said this stuff won't mess with the medicine, and you might want a chaser." He tossed Ignis a can of Ebony. "How you doing?"

"Ha!" Noct looked up from the bag of chips he was ripping open, expression gleeful. "One hundred gil in the pot."

Gladio shrugged and pulled a wallet out of his pocket. "No problem."

Noct looked smug for a second before he caught on that Gladio was holding _his_ wallet, and Prompto caught Ignis grinning to himself at the ensuing ruckus.

There were a few awkward moments. Ignis decided to announce while the second round was loading that he actually didn't consider Ebony better than sex, at least most sex, which Prompto cut off with _Miss Molly had a Moogle, its name was Baby Boo_ (clap, left-clap, clap, right-clap, backhand-up-down). Later on, Gladio forgot and started to ask, "Hey, Iggy, you remember that time when – " but he saved himself by doing the verse where Baby Boo took his pants off.

"Prompto tells me he's familiar with ten different versions of that song," Ignis murmured, executing a sweet blitz combo and raising his fist automatically to bump Gladio's. "If I get more than one stuck in my head, I promise you'll see nothing on your plates but burnt toast from here to Altissia."

"Prompto's like a god to 7-year-olds who love dick jokes," Noct said, his face so blank Prompto couldn't figure out if that was a compliment or an insult. "He's also about to be eaten by a Crocogle."

Prompto yelped, and dove back into the game.

When the sun was low in the sky and all the snacks were gone, Noct and Gladio made awkward offers to swap places and stay at the haven for the night. Ignis could sleep in a real bed ( _a real short bed_ , Gladio corrected) and so on. Ignis refused, on the grounds that he didn't trust himself to drive, and he worried about what he'd say to Prompto if forced to be honest about his driving.

The camp seemed way too quiet once they were gone, but Prompto busied himself with cooking dinner. It was weird for him to be the one cooking while Ignis leaned against the table and did nothing, so he found himself rambling.

"This is an old family recipe," he told Ignis, while trying to cut even slices of bread and look suave doing it.

Ignis frowned. "You told me – "

"My dad kicked ass at hot cheese sandwiches, and I'm gonna recreate that flavor experience for you or die trying." Bread beaten into submission, Prompto started in on the cheese. He didn't get why these things weren't sold pre-sliced, like people did in civilized places.

"Ah. The olde-with-an-e Argentum family grilled cheese recipe."

That was one of Ignis' talents, being able to repeat back almost exactly what Prompto had said, but make it so – sarcastic? mocking?

"Passed from father to son, and now to you." Pompto assembled the two sandwiches and put them on the grill. He thought there was supposed to be butter or margarine, but they just had oil, and he wasn't trying to start a fire, here. Ignis would be well unimpressed with a sandwich en flambe. "Dad also did awesome toast with jam, but I'll save that for when I really want to knock your socks off. Also, we don't have jam."

"My apologies for the oversight." Ignis' hand twitched as if he wanted to reach for the spatula, but he restrained himself. "I'm sorry I gave you the impression that I believe cooking to be an essential skill for parenting. I don't mean to make you feel I'm censuring your family."

"I'm teasing." Prompto lifted an edge to check on how brown the bread was; deciding it was good enough, he flipped the sandwiches over, using the olde Argentum spatula-plus-three-fingers method. "Plus, duh, I can't picture King Regis wowing Noct with homebaked cookies, and I can't see you dissing the King, like, ever." Damn – he _really_ didn't mean to drop such a leading statement, touching on all the topics he was avoiding, so he scrambled for a conversational life preserver. "So just for reference, how _would_ you make a cheese sandwich?"

He totally scored, and would have given himself a fist-pump if he hadn't wanted to avoid spatula-related disaster. Ignis turned out to be a cheese snob, and Prompto played up his ignorance (cheese came in white and orange, right?) all the way through plating the sandwiches, garnishing them with moderately-smushed tomatoes, and eating most of the meal. Plus, he learned some fascinating cheese facts. Apparently eating cheese that was going moldy was a thing, who knew?

He thought about that for a full half-second before deciding, "Gross."

Ignis shrugged. "More for me, then." After a moment he added, reluctantly, "Though it's possible no one produces it any more, because of the war. Even essential industry has been lost..."

Nope, Prompto didn't want to wander into that dark alley. "I bet I could make moldy cheese for you."

That nearly earned him a smile. "No. Thank you."

"Your loss, dude." He hopped up and collected the dishes for washing, shooing Ignis off to take his medicine and his temperature and reapply the ointment to his face and hands. By the time Ignis came back, the work was done, and they could settle down to stare at the dying fire.

Or at least, that's what Prompto did. He felt totally wrung out, even though they hadn't been attacked, or climbed any mountains, or climbed a mountain and been attacked as a package deal. All he'd done was hang out with friends, take some pictures, and play games. Maybe he was getting old.

"Hey. Can I tell you a secret?" Prompto asked. He wanted to, but he also thought that this might be one of his worst ideas. At any rate, the thought of having the truth be out there was both relieving and damp-palm-inducing terrifying. "Maybe you already know. You know a lot of stuff. But I've never told anyone before. And there's all this honesty in the air."

Ignis made a soft inquisitive noise, looking up from whatever he was scrolling through on his phone. He didn't push Prompto to go on, but neither was he shutting him up.

A deep breath, for courage. "My parents," Prompto started, "were military contract workers – construction mechanics. They were killed in the fighting last year." Ignis was close enough that he heard his breath catch, and out of the corner of his eye Prompto saw him turn to watch him. He shrugged, self-conscious at the scrutiny. "I miss them – a lot – but I'm okay. I'm fine. I just – when it happened, the last thing I wanted was to talk about it. And then, how do you bring something like that up a week or a month or a year later? _Hey, BFF, by the way, guess what?_ Too weird. But I just... I want someone to know." He gave Ignis as much of a smile as he could muster. "I'm gonna shut you down if you try and tell me about your family, fair warning. Everyone's got the right to privacy, even doped up people like you, Igster."

"Thanks to the medicine, I'm well on the way to recovery," Ignis said, because he just had to be ornery. Or maybe the nickname irritated him, who knew? (Prompto would know, if he asked.) "The fever's broken, and the rash hardly itches at all. By tomorrow I expect I'll be as good as ever. So before then, I need to tell you – "

"Nope," Prompto interrupted, clapping his hands over his ears. "Miss Molly had a Moogle, the Moogle had a duck – "

Ignis got up, wrapped his hands very gently around Prompto's wrists and did something with pressure points that made his arms go slack all the way to his elbows. He tugged Prompto's hands down, and then let go. He seemed to be at a loss then, about whether to return to his seat, but he stayed there, in front of Prompto, who'd completely forgotten how the verse ended.

"I'm very sorry about your parents," Ignis said firmly, while Prompto was shaking feeling back into his fingers. "I wish I'd known, so that you wouldn't have been hurt and alone. Although that's likely selfish hubris on my part, and you certainly have the right to choose how – and with whom – to grieve." He looked down, and his glasses did that weird thing where they caught the light and went opaque, hiding his eyes. "I'd been assuming I feel protective of you because I wanted to sleep with you, but I'm increasingly unable to ignore the emotional attraction. I'd rather hoped you wanted to tell me you're gay." He was bright red by the time all that tumbled out, and biting down hard on his lower lip to stop his increasingly off-the-rails confession.

Prompto couldn't help himself; he tried to hold in a chuckle and ended up wheezing so hard with laughter that he could hardly breathe. He grabbed Ignis, who was trying to escape, holding _tight_ (thanks, Gladio, and your arm workouts of death), and they ended up taking a tumble while Prompto's chair collapsed to the side. They hit the ground but not the campfire, which Prompto counted as a win, even though he kind of elbowed Ignis in the side while struggling to sit up, and Ignis was stiff with humiliation and unhelpful. 

It took Prompto three tries before he managed to ungarble his words enough to say, "Look at us, we are a _pair_."

Ignis' hands settled whisper-light at the front of Prompto's shoulders, as if he couldn't figure out whether to push him away or not. "Is that a good thing?" he asked, each word reluctant.

"Yeah," Prompto said. "Yeah, I – " and then he was crying, pressing his face into Ignis' shoulder. No one'd held him since his parents, and he was glad it was Ignis now. He didn't care if Ignis thought he was acting like a child: all he wanted was this, to have his back rubbed and someone tell him he was okay – _let it all out, I'm here, you're safe, I'm sorry_.

When the maelstrom of sobs settled into sniffles and Prompto relaxed into the damp mess he'd made of Ignis' shirt, he thought about faking sleep. Ignis' chest was warm and solid, his arms as comforting as a blanket. But he suspected Ignis would feel too guilty to shove him off even if Prompto got heavy and cut off all his circulation. Unlike a certain Lucian king, Prompto didn't think of hugging as some kind of brutal martial art.

With a deep breath, he sat up straight, scrubbing his face with the back of his hand and then meeting Ignis' eyes and dredging up a watery grin.

Ignis looked... well, he looked exactly like someone would look with their most fiercely guarded secret exposed. Weary and vulnerable, both scared of what might happen and sure he deserved the consequences.

"Hey," Prompto said, and tried to tone down his giddy moodswinging. "You know, my mom had the same taste in books as Gladio, she'd be making popcorn to watch this romcom."

"I have a bone to pick with the scriptwriter," Ignis muttered, but he seemed a fraction less devastated.

Still, not the right time for Prompto to try and break the tension with a terrible boning joke. He didn't know what else to say.

The thing was... here was the thing. It wasn't like anyone distrusted Ignis. They all knew he was loyal to the bone (heh): he'd sacrifice himself unquestioningly for Lucis and for the king. But it didn't take special training in strategy to figure out that King Regis wouldn't have just sent them off without making sure that one person understood why they were really being evacuated from the city, and that they mustn't turn back for any reason. Sure, there was Luna and the wedding, but if Noct had forgotten his lucky socks and demanded they return for them, someone needed to know enough to stop him.

The King sure as hell didn't say anything to Noct or Prompto. He might've told Gladio, but that didn't seem likely. Prompto saw the way Gladio looked at Ignis sometimes, as if he was on the verge of asking before thinking better of it.

Prompto didn't want to know; he didn't think it mattered. King Regis would answer to the Astrals for the ruthlessness that preserved the line of Lucis – his own son – at the cost of lives lost in the hopes of many more lives spared in the future. If he _had_ used Ignis and his loyalty to the crown for his own ends, that wasn't Prompto's business, and he was sure Ignis would feel torn up enough about it.

But that was the behemoth in the honesty room – the reason why he was here, and not Noct or Gladio. If Ignis wanted to take the truth with him to the grave, fine. If the only major reveals over the past few days were Prompto's lie about his parents and Ignis' confession of love, good. There'd be no nasty fallout from that, and – 

Well. If Ignis wanted to forget he'd said that, Prompto would live with that fiction as well. They had a mission, and the Six knew Prompto was a distraction and a half that most people could live without. But maybe that wasn't what he wanted. The thought made Pompto's head spin, and he was thankful that his face surely couldn't get any redder after bawling his eyes out.

"We should talk," he said finally. Ignis was biting his lower lip in an attempt to force his own silence. "Not now – gods, no – but when you can tell me with a straight face that my hair is blue and your favorite food is a nice big bag of Duscae's Best BBQ Bits, sausage-onion flavor."

"Those smelled _disgusting_ ," Ignis said. "I don't understand why Noct likes them at all."

"O-kay," Prompto interrupted. He didn't want to trigger the eight hundredth round of the _but chips are potatoes and therefore vegetables_ debate. "You'll take your medicine and we'll get a good night's sleep, and see how things look in the morning." He rolled to his feet and stretched, feeling the drag of exhaustion in every muscle.

Ignis was just as stiff as he pushed up off the ground, which was too bad – usually he made any physical effort look effortless. Prompto hit his mental pause button to wonder when he'd started noticing.

"I truly am sorry about your family," Ignis said. "Under normal circumstances, I would have... treated your honesty with the respect it deserved, I hope, and told you how much I appreciated," his mouth twisted, "your confidence."

"Look," Prompto said. "I'm the king of beating myself up about dumb shit I did, and this whole thing – it's nothing like that. One hundred percent no need for regrets zone. I just need to talk to sober Ignis. That's all." He poked Ignis in the arm. "Promise me you're not going to be hard on yourself."

Ignis swallowed. "I – " He sighed, and went to get the pail of water to put the fire out. Prompto grabbed the shovel, wondering when this – and not flipping an electric switch – had started to feel comfortable and normal. When Ignis came back, he gave Prompto a wry look. "As soon as I can compliment you on your blue hair, I should be able to make that promise."

Prompto guessed that was the best he was going to get, but he found that answer depressing as hell.

Going to bed after all that was awkward, but a familiar awkwardness. They'd been forced to share the same tent after Prompto wrecked the Regalia, Noct had his breakdown after the Marilith attack, and Gladio... well, he hadn't done anything _yet_ , but it was his turn next. Maybe Cor or Iris would kick his ass at sparring or he'd make himself violently ill on noodles; whatever happened, he'd still end up crawling into bed between Noct (snoring) and Ignis (monopolizing the best pillow), and wake up with Prompto's feet in his face. Having no privacy when you'd rather lick your wounds alone was one of their fine roadtrip traditions.

Prompto fell asleep as soon as his back hit the foam mattress, anyway, way too tired to try and fight off another heart to heart. His last thought was to hope Ignis didn't hate him in the morning.

He dreamed he was watching fireworks with Luna's puppy, and he woke alone.

Maybe Ignis had trouble sleeping – all that coffee – or maybe other stuff kept him awake. Prompto dressed and went out to find the campsite empty. The sun wasn't quite up yet, so he decided to switch his morning run for search-and rescue. Or rather, search-and-smack-upside-the-head. He worried about the people he liked, so shoot him.

He went down to the river first, even though the pot over the firepit had been full. When he got no joy from the riverbank alongside the fishing area, he sprinted up to the hill trails. At least he was getting a good workout, and experiencing lots of nature. He loved nature, as long as it didn't sting, bite, fall on his head, lie in wait for him, try to eat him, or barf in his face. He and nature liked a little distance in the relationship.

When he hit the first trail and had to decide left or right, he did hamstring stretches while he thought. Right led off further from the campsite, and left followed the ridge to the field where they'd practiced taking pictures the day before. Ignis wanted to be alone, but he had to know Prompto would worry. 

So field of photography it was.

And praise the Astrals, when he reached the top, there Ignis was – or at least, one of his boots was visible, which Prompto assumed was attached to the rest of him, sitting hidden behind one of the boulders. Staying out of the direct morning sunlight, as per apothecary's directions. Prompto slowed to a walk, letting his feet rattle stones as he headed over, like an early-warning system.

Ignis was mostly leaning against the boulder, one knee pulled up to his chest and a can of Ebony held loosely in his hand. He hadn't done his hair, so it hung flat, like a metaphor for his current mood. If Prompto took a picture (which he wouldn't, of course: he had _some_ sense of propriety, or rather, self-preservation) he could title it _Sadness with Coffee_. Or – as Ignis turned his head enough to fix him with a fierce glare – _Leave Me Alone_.

"Heya," Prompto said, just as if Ignis had wished him a very good morning, and dropped down to sit at his side. He wiped the sweat out of his eyes with his equally-sweaty shirt and looked out at the sweet view of the river valley, glittering in the first light of day. "You feeling honest this morning?" Yes or no question; probably safe.

"I feel like I have the worst hangover of my life," Ignis said. "And I once made the mistake of trying to outdrink Gladio." Prompto frowned – that sounded like truth serum talking – but Ignis waved his free hand in dismissal. "Your hair is a lovely azure and I desire nothing more than snacks composed entirely of artificial flavorings and bacon grease. Does that satisfy your conditions?"

"Awesome," Prompto said. He felt a flood of relief, and didn't need to fake his enthusiasm. "Dishonesty is back on line. How's the fever and the rash?"

Ignis had returned to staring blankly out at the scenery. "Why bother asking when I needn't be truthful?"

"What's the point of anything?" Prompto sucked in a breath and then huffed it out all at once. "I don't mean to hassle you – "

" – really."

"– but I think we should talk about yesterday. Before Noct and Gladio come back, and before it gets put off, and put off, and then – well, like my parents. It gets hard to bring things up, trust me."

Ignis took a sip of coffee. Very slowly, he said, "I don't regret anything I told you. I've been awake most of the night replaying my various confessions, but... on that matter, I'm relieved that you know. It will give me the impetus I've been lacking to stop being ridiculous."

"I don't think it's ridiculous to like me," Prompto said, keeping his voice casual. "I'm biased, though."

"It's unfailingly ridiculous to develop feelings for someone straight." Ignis sounded angry, though Prompto guessed that was self-directed. "I've been told the attention's flattering, which is exactly the last thing one wishes to hear when – "

"You want them to want to bang you like a bomb?" Promoto guessed. He'd been intimate with that feeling far too many times.

And wow, he had no idea Ignis was capable of blushing, but under the scabbed-over spots his cheek was definitely red.

"I'm not gay," Prompto said, "but I wouldn't rule out bi, though I've never had sex, which is probably obvious enough to be observable from the Astral realm. Mostly I'm attracted to people who are amazingly good with their hands and who don't like me." Almost as if blushing was contagious, he felt his skin heat with every word he spoke.

Ignis hummed, considering, as if Prompto was a mysterious new ingredient he didn't have a recipe for. "Alas. I _am_ rather fond of you."

Prompto swallowed. "I could learn to live with that."

Belatedly, he noticed that Ignis was wearing gloves for the first time since the attack. This was called to his attention because Ignis put his can down on the ground behind them and then, with slow deliberation, undid the wrist fasteners and slid each one off. The gloves were folded and placed neatly by the can.

He had to know Prompto found that meticulous striptease a turn-on, right? It wasn't just overactive imagination?

Prompto dragged his eyes up from bared fingers to find Ignis still studying him like he was an unknown quantity, though when their eyes met the corner of his mouth twitched up, not quite his usual smug smirk but something almost like it.

And then he placed one palm on Prompto's still-burning cheek and leaned in, and – _oh_. His mouth against Prompto's was soft and warm, featherlight at first but quickly intensifying. All of Gladio's books had been _right_ – Prompto _did_ feel electrified, and he clung to Ignis and kissed back as best as he could, hoping that sensation was mutual. Ignis' bare fingers slid into the hair at the nape of his neck, and he shuddered, toes curling in his boots and not a coherent thought left in his head. He vaguely noticed milestones as they flew past – first kiss, first filthy wet kiss, first time making out, first time a hand slid up under his shirt to curl around his side – but like always he was fine being in the passenger seat with Ignis at the wheel.

When Ignis pulled back, his eyes were dark and he looked, Prompto thought, dangerous. Which was weird, because Ignis was one of the most dangerous people he knew but he usually looked like a fashion model, and also weird because Prompto as a rule liked to stay away from danger, but right now he just wanted to get back to kissing.

"The others doubtless won't arrive before midmorning," Ignis said. His voice was rough, the way he sounded when he was in pain, except Prompto was ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure that was his sex voice. It really, really worked for him, at any rate – he was incredibly turned on. "We could – how far do you want to go?"

 _Sex, sex, sex_ was what Prompto heard, and it was crazy hard to talk his body down from that ledge. But... "On the first date?" he asked, and Ignis' eyes flashed – annoyance, probably. "How long would it take after banging me like a bomb for you to start thinking – " he held up a finger for each point – "he's a desperate virgin scared he's going to die most days, at this point he'd say yes to anyone, does he even like me anyway?" Once again under scrutiny, Prompto shrugged awkwardly. "My brain thinks like that naturally, all the time. Your mileage probably varies. I mean – the reason I volunteered to stay with you was because like Gladio said, I'm the odd man out. I figured if you hated me by the end, that wouldn't be anywhere near as bad as if you stopped being friends with Noct or Gladio, you know?"

"You must be aware of how protective that sounds," Ignis said, sounding amused. "While my flaw – if I have one – is over-confidence and not the opposite, so there's a very slight possibility that I'm wrong, I interpret your thoughts and actions as concerned and caring. While I appreciate the willingness to sacrifice your happiness for mine, I assure you it's unnecessary." There was that smirk again. "If you didn't want this, you wouldn't be here." And then a stern stare. "Or so I would certainly hope."

"I want – " Prompto started, and then floundered in a geyser of desires. _To be loved_ sounded desperately pathetic and _to be in love_ was almost as bad. _To be safe, to have someone I can talk to about everything, to make you laugh, to get back to kissing and maybe more_... "I want you, I want to try. Specifically, no clue, but I trust you."

Ignis kissed him again, and second kisses turned out to be just as good as first. Then he said, "Allow me," and spread both their shirts out on the grass for Prompto to lie back on. When Ignis stretched out over him and kissed him again, Prompto's hands skimmed over bare skin. He could feel lean muscles flexing, and suddenly Ignis' acrobatic martial arts skill had breathtaking implications. He found himself gasping, and he rocked up, his dick looked for friction, pressure, some kind of relief. He ended up rubbing against Ignis, who was just as hard as he was. Ignis rolled his hips down, and Prompto rocked up again, and suddenly they had a rhythm going.

Ignis kissed down his neck, Prompto's head tipped back, eyes closing, so, so overwhelmed with sensation that he felt like he was drowning. Fingers slid down his chest, circling his nipple in a way that made him shiver, and then drifting down, like Ignis was tracing lines with electric current – nearly tickling, but not. Those hot sparks of pleasure coalesced as soon as Ignis rubbed the palm of his hand along the front of Prompto's pants, tracing his dick, and Prompto was gone, shoulders curling up, shouting as he came. Ignis held him and kissed him and kept touching him, as he shuddered head to toe.

When he could open his eyes and look at Ignis, he wasn't surprised to see him looking self-satisfied, as if he knew just how magic his touch was. Prompto reached up and curled a hand around the back of his neck to pull him down for a kiss – did it count as a first kiss if it was your first time initiating, he wondered, and then decided yes arbitrarily, because he liked all these first times and wanted more. He always felt a heavy-limbed blissful lassitude right after coming, but it burned off quickly, and then the energy kicked in. He felt Ignis start in surprise when he realized Prompto was hard again.

"I told you about my stamina thing," Prompto said. "I really don't think it's still puberty."

"That barely took _one minute_ ," Ignis pointed out. He looked half amused, half irritated. "I _was_ going to be magnanimous."

Prompto didn't know what that meant, but he figured Ignis had planned on being kind enough not to snicker at how uncool it was to come in his pants the first time he was touched. 

He'd feel more embarrassed, honestly, except: "That was just the first time."

Ignis' eyebrows rose. "Out of...?"

"Uh." Prompto didn't know; he'd never hit a limit. Mostly he gave up because jerking off got boring and/or started to hurt. "Noct says it's freaky, but I try not to use him as my measure of normal." Urgh, he so did not need to think about Noct right now. "Enough about me." He rolled them over, because he wanted the sun out of his eyes, and stole a lingering kiss while he was at it. "I want to see you." His knees were framing Ignis' hips, and he ran his finger along Ignis's skin right above the top of his trousers, eyes flicking from the tightening of Ignis' stomach to the way his lips parted to suck in air.

But Ignis, when he answered, didn't even have a waver in his voice. "Of course. I trust you'll be suitably impressed."

Prompto nearly called him out for being cocky, because how often did the perfect opportunity for a sex pun happen _while actually having sex_ (never yet, in his experience), but decided he'd much rather not risk anything that might trigger nervous laughter. He _was_ nervous – he'd never thought much about getting another guy off, and here he was – but it wasn't "giant cave monster we're all going to die" nervous. It was more like "trying to grab the perfect photo op" nervous.

"You don't have to," Ignis said, sounding very kind but a little distant. Prompto felt instantly bad for leaving him hanging.

"Sorry," he said, and ran his fingernails lightly over Ignis' stomach in apology. "I'm going to take _so many_ naked pictures of you I'll have to get a dedicated memory card."

"And permission," Ignis said, his voice cracking on the word.

"Eh." Prompto worked his way down the row of buttons on Ignis' fly, using the opportunity to try and get a feel for Ignis' dick. He got the trousers undone and pulled them and Ignis' underwear down together, with Ignis helpfully lifting his hips so there was... everything, right out in the open. "I'd ask for forgiveness."

Ignis had obviously been showing off his ability to use multi-syllable words in conversations while seriously turned on: he was hard, leaking a wet spot where the head of his dick lay, and when Prompto gave in to curiosity and trailed his fingers up the shaft it jumped with a very un-Ignis-like eagerness. Ignis' breath caught, his hands curling into fists, and Prompto figured that he should probably save teasing for later. He fit his hand around Ignis' dick, leaning up to put the other on the ground by Ignis' head so he could kiss him while learning how to jerk him off.

"Tell me how you like it," he said, punctuating his words with brushes of his lips.

"Yes, well," Ignis said, as if he was going to commence a lecture on the subject. But he abandoned words and reached down to guide Prompto's fingers with his own: a slightly firmer grip and slower speed – maybe he _liked_ teasing. Prompto's own arousal was a constant aching pressure, confused at being ignored when it was clear that _someone_ was getting off. It was strange but extremely hot to see Ignis losing control, thrusting into their combined grip like he couldn't help it, teeth catching sharply at his lower lip, and then at Prompto's shoulder. "Here," he said, his voice making Prompto's toes curl, "why don't we – " and he pushed Prompto back enough that he could strip his pants down with ruthless efficiency. Prompto tried to apologize for the dampness, and got cut off with a sharp, "I don't care. Your hand, please."

Prompto didn't see where this was going until he was tugged back into place and his hand was wrapped around as much of their two cocks as he could hold, with Ignis working the other side. He found himself shocked and dizzy with the intimacy. Ignis curled up to watch and then dropped back with a ragged groan that he cut off by pressing his wrist to his mouth, and his hand picked up speed like he couldn't help himself.

 _He's going to come,_ Prompto realized with a surge of elation and wild possessive pride. _Because of me._ He watched as Ignis' whole body clenched, his shoulders leaving the ground, eyes squeezed shut, hair tangled, sweat glistening on tight muscles and come pooling on his stomach. He was gorgeous, and Prompto's heart stuttered in his chest, full to overflowing with wants and desires. _Mine_ , he thought, and felt bliss burn through him, like he was being filled up with sunlight.

He did not collapse onto Ignis like dead weight when he came – more by accident than design, not that he'd admit that – but instead settled heavily at his side, possibly crushing Ignis' arm, definitely scrawling words dreamily in the mess on Ignis' stomach. Both of their names, then today's date, and comments like _mine_ and _wow_ and _first_.

"Are you writing something?" Ignis asked after a moment.

Prompto stilled his fingers guiltily. "Nope." He drew a happy face instead, dotting the eyes to the sides of Ignis' navel and curling the smile just above his neatly-trimmed pubic hair.

Ignis sighed and reached up to capture his hand. He seemed content to stay like that, eyes closed and breathing deeply, and Prompto wondered if he was going to fall asleep.

But of course this was Ignis: even if he wanted to take a nap, of course he wouldn't.

"We should go back and wash up," he said, sitting up and dislodging Prompto effortlessly. "It wouldn't do to get caught like this." He managed to stand while pulling his trousers up and produced a white handkerchief from somewhere, wiping away what he could before offering it to Prompto.

"I'm good." Prompto rolled to his feet, stretching. He felt like he'd just worked out, full of energy and kind of high, and he couldn't stop grinning.

Ignis glanced at him. "I know you are." He gave Prompto a quick kiss before retrieving his gloves and coffee, and took advantage of Prompto's dazed happiness to toss him their shirts with an off-hand, "Both of these need to be washed, of course."

Prompto shrugged. " _Everything_ needs washing. I'll ask Gladio if there's a coin-op where he is." He fished his phone out and sent off a quick text. Then before he could convince himself it was a bad idea, threw his arm around Ignis' waist and decided to leave it there for the walk back. Ignis didn't seem to mind.

About halfway there Prompto spotted movement in the underbrush about ten meters downhill, and slowed to watch warily. Ignis had seen it as well, and was tense: ready to fight, if need be, even half-naked. A few seconds later, the distinctive tufted heads of a Truthatrice mother and chicks poked out of the bushes, beady eyes searching for insects in the grass.

"They're far enough away they're not going to attack us," Prompto said, keeping his voice low. Without thinking about it, he'd taken a step forward, placing himself between the Truthatrice and Ignis.

"They only spit when they're threatened," Ignis said, sounding defensively academic. "If we can avoid thrusting our hands right into their faces, I believe we'll survive this encounter admirably unscathed."

"You should get a picture." Prompto got his phone out again. Not his best camera, but good enough. He opened the app and passed it over. "The lighting's okay, but you'll need to zoom, so keep you hands steady. Brace your arms like I showed you."

Ignis frowned, but framed the shot carefully. "For what possible reason would I want a picture?"

"For the memories." The shutter clicked three times, and Ignis handed the phone back with a skeptical look. Prompto hooked an arm around his back and tugged him into place for a few decent selfies, and then took some shots of the birds himself. "Maybe someday I'll do a coffee table book on awesome animals." He suspected that wouldn't happen – he saw more Crownsguarding in his future, and less professional photography – but a boy could dream.

His phone dinged with a message from Gladio saying they'd turn up in an hour or so, and Ignis let him drop the topic in favor of sidling very quietly away from the Truthatrice family, and then hurrying back to camp.

Prompto regretted that their sponge baths had to be rushed. He kind of wanted to ogle, and he suspected Ignis felt the same way. He found a bite mark on his shoulder that wasn't from some animal trying to kill him, which was a step up, in his opinion. By the time his hair was washed and he started toweling off, Ignis was already dressed and packing away the bedding in the tent.

"Don't forget your medicine," Prompto called as he shimmied into his next-best trousers, which were gross but not _as_ gross. "And stay in the shade." He raked through the coals to make sure the fire was well and truly out, and then started folding up all the chairs and the table and the grill. Gladio was always going on about simple living. Prompto didn't see it: camping was about not only having tons of stuff, but also having to move it around all the time. 

"If I may have a moment," Ignis said when Prompto had all the heavy crap piled up by the parking space and was packing away the cooking stuff.

"You can have as many as you like," Prompto offered. He was a generous guy.

"Are we telling Gladio and Noct about us? I'll respect your wishes either way," he added. "I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable."

He nearly blurted out, _Why? Would you feel weird if people knew you were dating someone like me?_ but swallowed the words down. He was going to have to work at remembering that Ignis wasn't a screen he could project all over.

"I don't want to lie," he said, putting the words together carefully as he thought out loud. "Gladio will probably worry I'll get distracted, but honestly, I'm distracted by _everything_ and I think I can still be counted on in a fight."

"I concur," Ignis said warmly, with a nod. "I also doubt Noct will protest. He accidentally attempted to ascertain my feelings toward you yesterday. However mortifying the memory is in retrospect, I stand by what I said. I have a private life and he's not owed any of it, even as my king." He sighed. "He told me he just wanted to be happy for me."

Prompto was going to be able to go pro with blushing if he kept up practicing this hard. "You bit his head off for that?"

"Either that or end up telling him precisely the state of my happiness." He paused, and then added, "Exacerbated by how tactile you've been these past few days."

Prompto grinned down at the box of dishes he was strapping up. "Aw. I'm touched. Were you imagining nurse porn?"

"Certainly not," Ignis retorted, and he sounded _almost_ convincingly sincere.

But no. "Liar," Prompto decided, and got up to go heft the last boxes over to the rest of the stuff. "So we're going to tell them. Good. Now what?"

"Now you need to come over here and finish getting dressed, because you look distractingly like a very different genre of pornography."

Prompto glanced down at himself. He supposed his trousers were kind of low. "Would it help if I told you I had a part-time job out of high school where I wore a tool belt every day?"

" _Shirt_ , Prompto."

Possibly it was wrong to find Ignis sounding like an exasperated dad talking to a two-year-old kind of hot. Prompto was in new territory here, though, so he supposed he should just roll with it. He ducked into the tent and snagged his t-shirt. As he tugged it over his head, he noted that Ignis was somehow back in fashion-model mode. His button-down was unwrinkled, with the sleeves neatly rolled up to the elbows, his hair was perfect, and both his shoes and glasses were polished to a shine. The suspenders were also hot, he decided. He was so screwed.

There was one thing that wasn't quite right, though, and Prompto dropped to sitting, snagging the bag of medicine. "You didn't do your face this morning." Ignis gave that the glare it deserved, fair enough, but Prompto already had the pot of ointment out. "You'll thank me when you don't end up with a bunch of scars here," he went on, carefully working his fingers under Ignis' eyes, making sure to cover all the spots. "Trust me."

"You know I do," Ignis said, and he'd dropped back into his sex voice all of a sudden. Then he coughed and said, "Ah. I believe that's the car."

"Gotcha," Prompto said, finishing up and stowing the medicine. He heard the crunch of sand under tires and the cheerful burble of pop music from speakers, and looked out to see Noct getting out of the driver's seat. He seemed antsy, possibly still worried about Ignis' mood after yesterday, or maybe just tired from having to do all the driving and sick of Gladio's music.

Ignis unfolded himself from the tent with poise as per usual. Following him, Prompto felt gangling and awkward. But Ignis caught his hand as they walked over to the car, as easily as if it were habit, and Prompto saw Gladio and Noct pick up on the gesture instantly. Gladio's shoulders twitched back and he raised his eyebrows at Ignis, who gave him a short nod of acknowledgment. Noct's eyes flicked between Prompto and Ignis and his mouth curled into that barely-there smirk that made him look like a satisfied cat.

"Anything you want to tell us?" Gladio asked, leaning against the car and crossing his arms.

"We've become romantically involved," Ignis said. "And I'll be driving from here on, Noctis, thank you."

"Ah," Gladio said knowingly. "That's how it is, huh?"

"One hundred gil fine for sexual innuendo," Noct interjected, before Prompto even realized what Gladio was hinting at. He tossed the keys to Ignis in a lazy underhand. "You ready to hit the road and put this place behind you?"

"To tell the truth," Ignis said, and he gave Prompto's hand a light squeeze before releasing him, "it turned out to be not nearly as bad as I had feared."

"Must be true love, then," Gladio said offhand, oblivious to how Prompto's face nearly caught on fire. He circled the car, giving Noct a soft punch to the shoulder. "Let's stow the gear before someone else gets barfed on."

"Well," Ignis said under his breath, low enough only Prompto could hear, "if Gladio says it must be so..."

"He's the romance expert," Prompto agreed, and leaned in for a fast kiss while Gladio distracted Noct with chairs.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at https://bythepricking.tumblr.com/


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